Hermione sighed and closed her book. What could she learn from a book about muggle studies she didn't know herself? She stared out the window in the Gryffindor common room, the winter chill seeping through the stone Hogwarts walls, seeming to go deep into her bones. She pulled her coat a little closer. It was late, and everyone else seemed to have gone to sleep, even the Weasley twins, with their fantastical inventions. All that was left was herself and Crookshanks, asleep next to the fire. Hermione got up from the couch she had been sitting on and stretched, her shawl falling to the ground as she reached her hands towards the ceiling. She bent to pick it up and yawned, wrapping it back around herself. Was she tired? She didn't feel tired. Not even the warmth of the fire or her hot cocoa seemed to make her drowsy. She felt alive and energetic, most likely from the adrenaline of staying up past her usual time. Hermione checked the room again. There certainly was no one about. She walked over to the door, making sure to be quiet, lest she wake someone and get in trouble. The door swung open at her touch, the Fat Lady grunting quietly as it did. Hermione held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut, praying the Fat Lady wouldn't wake up. She let out a deep breath as soon as she heard the Fat Lady's Gentle snores resume. She stared into the empty hallway, her heart seeming to flutter and skip. Was this breaking the rules, being out this late? She hoped not. She stepped onto the carpet, glad that her steps were muffled by the furry shag. She made her way down the corridor, towards the window at the end. It was so dark out, she almost didn't see the silhouette of a lonely boy sitting by the window. His back was against the wall, his feet resting on the sill. He hadn't seen her, looking out as he was, to the Forbidden Forest. She crept closer, and closer still, but she couldn't seem to recognize him. Was it- could it be…
"Not any closer, Mudblood." The voice rang out in the silence, reverberating off the stone walls. Draco turned his head towards her, the moon reflecting off his blonde hair, his blue eyes catching hers. This time however, he said it in almost a defeated tone, like he didn't really mean it.
"What are you doing here?" asked Hermione, as she continued walking towards him. She felt for her wand in her cloak, worried she might need it. However, Draco seemed to have ignored her, having turned back to the window. Hermione reached him and tentatively took a seat on the other side of the window.
"This window has the best view of the stars." Draco said wistfully, almost as if he had forgotten she was there. Hermione looked up, and immediately saw the blanket of twinkling lights, beacons of beauty in an ocean of black. She heard Draco move, his clothes rustling softly as he turned to look at her. She looked too. They stared at each other, each other's nemeses, but instead of seeing and enemy, they saw in each other… understanding.
"I'm sorry. For- everything." The words caught in his throat. "I didn't… I didn't mean it." He took a deep breath and let it out, his expression forlorn, his demeanor gentle.
"I understand." Said Hermione, as she looked at this boy, and saw him for the first time. He was lonely, she knew. All he had were Crabbe and Goyle, and they weren't exactly his friends, more like his followers. "Draco, do you think-" Hermione couldn't finish her sentence, her mind swimming with thoughts, her heart beating at what felt like 2000 beats a second. She stared into his eyes, and saw all the loneliness and pain behind them. She didn't finish her sentence, but she didn't have to. She took his small, warm hand in hers and held it. He looked at her questioningly, but she stared back until he looked away, her sudden intensity startling him. He held her hand back. Together they stayed there, until the morning light crept through the window and they awoke to find themselves together, Hermione's head against his shoulder, still holding hands.
It had been two weeks since that night, and Draco and Hermione hadn't spoken since. They rushed past each other in the halls, heads down, and even Harry and Ron wondered what could've gotten into Malfoy that he was so quiet. Even Snape got irritated with him for falling asleep in class. All Hermione seemed to be able to think about was if he was losing sleep over her. She felt so stupid, thinking about a boy, Draco, no less. She shook her head, but still thoughts of his eyes, his hands, his lips crept into her thoughts and daydreams. She decided the best course of action was to stay away completely, as the only boy she saw now was the arrogant confident one again, not her lonely one. This proved impossible, of course, as all her classes seemed to have him in them. And it was in one of those dreaded classes, potions, to be exact, that it happened. He seemed especially tired that day, enormous circles under his eyes, his collar upturned in some places, his shoes untied. They were taking notes on bezoars when he collapsed right into his desk, sending papers flying everywhere.
"Well!" Snape said in a huff. "This simply will not do!" And that is how Draco came to find himself in the hospital wing, with no visitors save Crabbe and Goyle, whom he had sent off to save himself from their stupidity. And that was when Hermione came in, Her bushy hair tied back, holding a bouquet of white flowers almost as delicate as he thought she was.
"Queen Anne's Lace, if you were wondering." She breathed, the wintry snow in her lashes, her eyes glowing. "They have it at home too. I found some by Hagrid's hut." she sat on the edge of his hospital bed. "Are you alright, Draco?" All he could think was, it's back. That warm feeling he got when he was with her that night, that spread through his whole body, that woke him up. That feeling that told him he could do anything, even fling his bedsheets aside and stand up and grab Hermione, her eyes looking into his for what felt like a year before she finally closed the distance between them. The bed curtain covered them as they kissed, his mouth on hers, hers on his, their bodies trembling with every breath, and Draco finally felt complete, and Hermione felt as if she could kiss him forever. His soft lips made her feel more awake than ever, as she cupped his face in her hands, the warmth from her fingers spreading to his face, giving it color.
"Hermione." He breathed. He held her close, at the waist, and they stopped kissing, and he just held her there, and she loved him, and he loved her too. The world stopped and they were together and it was perfect, at least until Madame Pomfrey drew back the curtain to find him finally asleep with Hermione stroking his hair. He was facing her, and they were tangled together, a pair of mismatched people who had finally found a home in each other.